Countdown to Christmas: 24-The Littlest Angel
by Larabee's Lady
Summary: Last in a series of short-shorts, a mix of comedy and drama all set in the 1880s old West. Although not every story includes all the boys, all the boys each get a star turn. December 24: this one stars Chris and Sarah Larabee.


**Comments: **This could arguably be considered more of a scene than a story, but it parallels a very famous, very old Christmas story and seemed appropriate for Christmas Eve and as a finish to the "Countdown to Christmas" series.

**The Littlest Angel**

Chris Larabee was worried this Christmas Eve. Sarah was well along with child, but she'd insisted on visiting their families in Indiana for Christmas. She was hoping to have the baby there, too. Now it didn't look like that was going to happen. They were miles from anywhere when she went into labor.

He desperately hoped to find some shelter: a house, a way station, a tipi, anything. His silent prayers were answered when, just after midnight, they came upon a house with a small barn. The place looked deserted.

Chris knocked on the door anyway, and was surprised when a voice answered from within.

"Go away."

Chris persisted. "We need a place to stay! My wife is having a baby!"

The door opened abruptly. The old man glared at him, apparently trying to make up his mind. From the wagon, Sarah cried out in pain. The old man glanced at her, then at Chris.

"Use the barn. There's room in there." The door slammed.

Sarah moaned and Chris hurried to help her into the barn. He prepared a place for her on a pile of clean straw in a corner of one of the stalls.

As Sarah's contractions came quicker, Chris fought his rising panic. There was no doctor or no midwife to help. Sarah looked up at him and forced a smile. She always seemed to know what he was thinking.

"I need you," she said, taking his hand. Then she squeezed it tightly as she cried out from another contraction.

"It's all right. It's gonna be alright," he said, with more conviction than he felt.

Suddenly Sarah arched her back and cried out. "It's coming!"

And then there was no more time for Chris to think. As the baby's head emerged, Chris placed his hands gently under the tiny head and shoulders. Everything seemed to happen in a blur. One moment it was just Sarah and him. And the next moment Chris was holding his infant son.

He stared into the small, pink, crying face, and then looked at Sarah. He never loved two people more in all the world than he did just then. He slowly handed Sarah the baby, then he kissed her tenderly. "Merry Christmas," he said.

The barn was getting chilly. Chris cleared a space on the dirt floor and started a small fire.

"What're ya...Daft?"

Chris looked up, startled.

The old man gazed down at him. "You'll set the place t' blazin'. Put that out."

Just then the baby cried. The old man looked peered at the wiggling infant for a long time. His whole demeanor seemed to soften and he smiled.

"Nice job, son," he said to Chris. "But ya can't stay out here. Too danged cold. Bring 'em in the house. Ain't much room, but it's warmed up some."

_That wasn't all that had warmed up_, thought Chris.

The house had two rooms and was sparsely furnished. Sarah was made comfortable in the bedroom.

"I'm...sorry about...before," said the old man. "It's just that, well, my wife died and I've lost touch with my boy. So I just try to ignore Christmas. And people." He nodded at the baby. "So what's the boy's name?"

Chris hadn't thought about it. "What's yours?"

"Hezekiah." He grinned at Chris's expression. "But my boy's name is 'Adam.'"

Chris nodded. "The first man." He could see Sarah through the open doorway into the other room. "Adam Larabee?"

She smiled and nodded.

Chris looked into the tiny face. "Adam," he said softly.

The old man leaned back in his chair. "I was a sheep rancher, y'know." He chuckled at the irony. "Guess you could say I was a 'shepherd'..."

But Chris wasn't listening anymore. He cradled little Adam in his arms and thought about the surprise the Larabee _family_ was bringing home for Christmas.

END


End file.
